Wizard Proof
by HollyGolightly
Summary: HHR. AU. OOC. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Hermione is heartbroken after Ron marries another. To occupy her mind, Harry Potter lands her a job at the Daily Prophet. But Hermione refuses to give up on Ron. Will she recognize what's really right in front of her?
1. Heartbreaking News

Wizard-Proof

Summary: H/HR. Alternate Universe. OOC. Takes place after Hogwarts. Hermione is heartbroken after Ron decides to choose Lavender to be his bride. To keep her mind off of things, her friend, Harry Potter helps her land a job at the Daily Prophet. But as time goes by, Hermione stubbornly refuses to give Ron up. Will she realize just maybe the person she was meant to be with was in front of her this whole time?

Caveat: Based on the film Man-Proof with Myrna Loy and Franchot Tone. Harry Potter characters owned by J.K Rowling.

A/N: Here's a new one for you. Been contemplating this one for a while. Not sure if I will continue with this story, so please review and let me know. Also, the grammar thing, go easy on me. English is not my first language. Please note, Harry and Ron are not friends.

Chapter One: Heartbreaking News

It was a nice summer's day in Oxford, at the home of Mrs. Granger and her daughter Hermione. Mrs. Granger had been sitting in the study, at her desk with a typewriter for over an hour now. Thanks to her muggle connections and her daughter's wizarding connections, Meg Granger is now one of the best-selling romance novelists in London in both worlds. Her publishers had been eagerly waiting for her next manuscript. Meanwhile in the living room, she could hear her daughter talking on the floo network that connected to the fireplace in their house. It sounded like she was having a conversation with the proprietor of Ron's flat.

"Has Mr. Weasley come in yet?" Hermione asked anxiously. After a moment of silence, she heard her say, "No, no message."

Mrs. Granger sighed as she ripped yet another page from the typewriter. With the sheet crumbled in her hand, she got up from her desk and made her way to the living room.

Hermione was still on the floo network, this time talking to someone else.

"Ginny? Yes, I was just wondering if your brother is back in town today," her tone, nonchalant, "Oh, he was suppose to arrive at three o'clock? Thank you," With that, Hermione backed away from the fireplace.

"Maybe he's decided to stay over there for a few more days," Mrs. Granger suggested.

"Maybe," Hermione replied, "But he wrote me, telling me he would be back today." She sat down on the couch, absentmindedly running her fingers along the edge, "I bet Ron was bored in Palm Beach. He always did hate house parties."

"For a man who has no appetite for boredom, he bit off a rather large slice," observed her mother, "Three weeks to be exact."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Hermione's face lit up, "There he is now!" she declared before opening the door, ready to greet Ron with a bright smile. Her face quickly fell as her eyes met the person on their doorstep, "Oh, it's you."

Harry tilted his head curiously, pretending to look around, "Well, I think so," he answered with a grin, "Now after that rousing welcome, may I come in?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, still holding the door, "I thought you were someone else."

"I got it," he replied, stepping into the house, "Hello, Meg!" he greeted Mrs. Granger.

"Hi, Harry," Mrs. Granger smiled.

Harry walked up to her with one arm behind his back and bowed, "It's the gift, not the thought," he said as he presented a small bouquet of flowers, roots still intact.

Mrs. Granger took the flowers from him, "Oh, Harry, they're beautiful," she replied with obvious embellishment.

"They ought to be," he told her with a slight chuckle, "They came right out of your own garden."

Mrs. Granger giggled as she placed the stems into an already filled vase.

Harry asked, "How's the new novel coming along?"

"Not so hot," she responded, shaking her head, "Sure, the plot's alright. It's never failed me before. I'm just having difficulty giving new names to my characters." Mrs. Granger laughed to herself, "What brings you the wilds of Oxford?"

"An overwhelming desire to see the only woman that's ever appreciated the genius of my work," he answered. Harry is a photographer and cartoonist for the Daily Prophet. He had been responsible for designing Mrs. Granger's book covers for a few years now. "And her brat," he added, gesturing his head over to Hermione by the coffee table.

"To say of nothing to the possibility of a free meal," Hermione replied offhandedly.

Harry turned back to Mrs. Granger with a mock look of disappointment, "Children should be seen and not heard Meg." He walked over to the coffee table by Hermione and casually picked up a copy of Witches' Weekly. "As a matter of fact, the paper sent me down here to take some photographs of Mrs. Lestrange, the hatchet woman. You know, the one who made love to her husband with an axe?" He placed the magazine back on the table, "Charming woman, just a playboy at heart. You ought to send Hermione over there to play with her some afternoon."

"I'll give you ten to one he won't leave until we serve dessert," Hermione added slyly.

"You nasty child," Harry remarked teasingly as he took a seat on the couch, "She must take after her father."

"Don't mind her Harry," Mrs. Granger explained, sitting across from them by the fireplace, "She's been thwarted this afternoon."

"And how is Mr. Wonald Weasley, pardon my lisp," he asked with a smirk.

"You needn't be sarcastic," Hermione retorted, hardly amused, "You don't even know him."

"Only by his deeds," Harry recalled, "Seen in Morocco. Seen in Paris. Seen in Southampton. Seen in the Quidditch finals. How does he do it anyway? I'm broke too, and no one seems to see me anywhere."

"Society reporters don't hang around in dark corner pubs," Hermione snapped.

"Well, they ought to," he stated plainly, "They would meet a much better class of people."

Mrs. Granger shook her head, "Can't you two ever get together without leaping at each other's throat?"

"Suits me," Harry shrugged his shoulders, "Shall we bury the hatchet Hermione?" He said, offering his hand, "As Mrs. Lestrange said to her husband."

Hermione's expression softened, "I'm sorry, Harry," she grabbed his hand and shook.

"Think nothing of it," he patted her back gently, "Why do you let any man upset you like that?"

A defensive Hermione grew furious and stood up, "When will you learn to mind your own business and stop playing dutch uncle to me?" She glared at him, "I can't see that you made such a brilliant success in your life and what's more----"

Her rant was suddenly interrupted by a sharp tapping noise on the window.

Harry heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief, "Saved by an owl."

Hermione walked over to the window where a small brown owl had appeared with an envelope addressed to her. She took the letter from his beak and proceeded to open it. Her expression was unreadable as she read the letter to herself. Worried, Mrs. Granger walked up to her daughter, who was still facing the window, "What is it?" she asked.

Without a word, Hermione handed the letter over her shoulder. Mrs. Granger took it and read aloud, "Want you to be the first to know of our engagement. Expect you to be our loveliest bridesmaid. Lavender and ---" she paused before uttering, "Ron." She sadly looked over at her daughter whose eyes were filling up with tears. "My dear, I'm so----"

"Don't mother," she interjected, "Don't say anything." She turned; ready to retreat to her room.

"Would you like me to leave?" Harry asked tentatively, getting out of his seat.

"Why?" said Hermione, trying to hold back the tears from flowing down her face, "There isn't going to be a scene," She marched right up to him, "I won the consolation prize didn't I? I'm going to be a bridesmaid," she muttered bitterly.

"Stop it, Hermione," her mother pleaded, growing more concerned, "Harry, get her to stop."

"Do bridesmaids ever wear black?" Hermione continued, as if she hasn't heard a word, "No, of course they don't. I'll wear the conventional organdy with forget-me-nots."

"Now look, Mione," Harry placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, "Stop being noble. Go ahead and cry. If there's anything I hate is a noble woman."

"I'LL BE AS NOBLE AS I LIKE!" Hermione barked, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Oh, no you won't!" he yelled back, not letting go, "Now cut it out."

Hermione was so livid; she did the first thing that came to her mind and slapped him across the face, taking him completely by surprise. Harry immediately lets go. Without another word, she took off to her room, slamming the bedroom door loudly behind her,

Harry and Mrs. Granger stood alone in the living room, both staring towards the direction of Hermione's bedroom.

"Now what do I do?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Don't look at me," Harry said, gently rubbing his sore cheek, "I'm just an innocent bystander.

A/N: There you are. Just a little chapter to set everything up. It's short, I know, but the chapters should be longer in the future. Please review!


	2. The Wedding

A/N: Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. Due to popular demand, I am continuing with this story as of now. I have to warn you that the characters are out of character! This chapter is slightly longer. Please remember to review!

Chapter Two: The Wedding

The wedding took place outside the Burrow that following weekend. Almost all of Hogwarts' former students were there to witness Headmaster Dumbledore perform the ceremony between Ron and Lavender.

Mrs. Granger was sitting next to Harry in the audience, her hand gripped tightly onto Harry's arm. Extremely ill at ease, she kept a careful eye on her daughter throughout the ceremony, as if she were about to explode any minute.

"Harry," Mrs. Granger whispered to him as the couple said their vows and exchanged rings, "Look at Hermione."

With her chin held high, Hermione stood alongside her fellow bridesmaids, Ginny and Parvati, as Dumbledore made his closing speech to the newlywed couple. She succeeded in keeping her expression neutral, most likely due to the fact she avoided looking at the couples' faces. Mrs. Granger could see Hermione flinched slightly at the words, "Man and wife."

The audience cheered as Ron kissed his bride. Everyone stood up, talking amongst themselves about the event that unfolded in their front of their very eyes. Lavender was busy being congratulated by her parents when Hermione tapped her on the shoulder.

"Lavender," said Hermione with a forced smile, "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Hermione," she replied. The two women looked at each other uncomfortably until Seamus, the best man, swooped in to give Lavender a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Hermione took this opportunity to go up to Ron, who was also busy being congratulated by the wedding party.

"Ron," Hermione called to his attention, "Congratulations."

Ron turned to her, with a sincere smile, "Thank you, Mione."

"I hope you two will be very unhappy," she told him, cracking a smile to show she was attempting to be funny. The crowd laughed at her joke.

"What?" Ron asked, a little surprised.

"I mean it," Hermione continued, "because anything I wish for never comes true."

Lavender and Seamus felt a little sorry for her under the circumstances. As Lavender turned away to talk to Parvati, Seamus went over to her.

"Hermione," he said, "Will you marry me?"

"I will for a glass of elderflower wine," she replied in a light-hearted manner.

"We're married," Seamus declared with a grin as he led her away from the group of people.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hermione looked at him gratefully, "Thanks, Seamus, for the rescue."

"Oh that's alright," he replied, "It's just the prefect in me."

Meanwhile, Harry and Mrs. Granger were standing by their seats, still watching Hermione from a distance.

"She's holding up Harry," Mrs. Granger sighed in relief, "She's alright."

Harry shook his head, "The guy must be crazy to turn her down."

"That's what I say, but I love her," Mrs. Granger told him. "Harry," she turned and looked up at him, "I wish you were in love with her," she said sagely.

Harry chuckled, "If I fell in love with anybody in the Granger family, it wouldn't be Hermione," he said with a smirk, 'It'd be her mother," he gave her a wink and a playful nudge. Mrs. Granger laughed and rolled her eyes.

Most of the audience members were already gathered around the refreshment table when Seamus and Hermione arrived to get something to drink. Hermione was waiting for Seamus to pour themselves a glass of wine when she overheard the conversation behind her.

"It's cruel," Ginny said disapprovingly.

"Cruel?" Padma repeated sternly, a little put off that she wasn't a bridesmaid, "She didn't have to accept did she?"

"Just the same, I feel sorry for her," Luna told them.

Ginny frowned, "But she didn't have to be a bridesmaid."

"She tried hard enough to be the bride!" Padma remarked callously. Suddenly, her two friends fell silent, their eyes widened. She turned around and saw Hermione staring at them. Hermione, expressionless, shrugged her shoulders and turned away. Without haste, the three of them quickly took off.

Seamus also overheard this exchange and raised his eyebrows as he handed Hermione her drink. Hermione giggled as she took her glass, "Now, whom do you suppose she meant?"

Pretending to look oblivious, Seamus remarked casually, "I can't imagine."

Hermione raised her glass, "Well, whoever she is, here's to her."

"Yes, I like to meet her," he said, "Whoever is being talked about like that, must be important," he took a sip of his glass, "I should know her."

Hermione wasn't really listening as she downed her entire drink in one gulp, "Seamus?" she said shaking her head. She held out her glass, "I didn't get any."

Seamus gave her a knowing look before announcing, "Why that's an outrage!" He took her glass and refilled it.

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"I didn't know marrying you could be so much work!" Ron exclaimed as he and his new bride snuck upstairs to his old bedroom, "Might as well have been elected something!" He looked at her adoringly and kissed her gently.

Their kiss was interrupted as Dean, Ginny and Parvati barged nosily into the room.

"Stop fooling," Parvati scolded them.

"Who said we're fooling?" Lavender replied with a grin.

"Hurry up, or you'll miss getting to the portkey in time!" Ginny rushed as she and Parvati led her new sister-in-law into her bedroom to change out of her gown. "And Ron, finish up packing would you?" Ginny called out.

"Yes," Parvati agreed, "They've got all sorts of crazy things planned out for you! No one must see the two of you leave!"

As the girls went off to change and get ready, Ron and Dean were left alone in the bedroom, to prepare for tonight. "When was the last time you climbed down a ladder?" Dean asked amusingly.

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"It was nice seeing you again, Hermione," Hannah told her before leaving the party.

Hermione nodded graciously and plastered a smile, "Thank you for coming." By now she must have emptied eight or nine glasses of wine. Seamus could notice her slightly swaying as he stood beside her.

As Hannah left, Hermione wiped the smile off her face, "How am I doing?" she asked Seamus, "Putting on a good show?"

She went towards the table and traded her empty glass for a full one. Seamus, concerned, grabbed her arm gently before she raised the glass to her lips, "But I would take a little easy, Hermione," he suggested.

"Oh, I'm alright," She told him defensively, "Got to laugh, Seamus, haven't we?" She sipped her drink, "Haven't we Seamus?"

"Oh sure," he replied offhandedly, "But not in their faces." Suddenly, he felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned and found Susan Bones standing by him, a little plastered herself.

"And how is the best man this evening?" she asked.

"Positively exhausted and there is still work to be done," he told her. Looking at his watch, he turned back to Hermione, "Excuse me, Mione, I have to go inside for a bit. I've got the directions to the portkey and—" Noticing that drunk Hermione wasn't really listening, he dropped his explanation and said, "Well, I'll see you later then." With that, he dashed inside.

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Ron finished changing his clothes just as Seamus ran into the room.

"Here are the directions to the portkey," he said as he stuffed the paper into Ron's back pocket.

"I'm almost ready," Ron said as he examined himself in the mirror.

"Well, I'd try to get away without seeing Hermione again, if that's possible," Seamus warned.

Ron spun around with a worried look, "Why? What's the matter?"

"She is gloriously lit," he told him with trepidation, "When Mione gets lit, she glows."

"You mean, she might pull a scene?" Dean asked as he packed Ron's suitcase on the bed.

"No, I don't think she would at all," Seamus made his way over to him, "I'm just saying, it's been a beautiful wedding, so lets make it right," he explained.

"That's alright," Dean replied, "Nobody will see them. They're going down a ladder."

Seamus observed Dean's progress with the suitcase, "Say, that's no way to pack a suitcase."

"Alright," he said, frustrated, "You do it." Dean picked up the suitcase and turned it over, emptying its contents.

"Hey, easy with my stuff there guys," Ron told them, as he walked over to the door, "I'm going to check on Lavender." He made his way down the hall and tried to open Ginny's door but found it locked.

"Hey! What are you doing in there?" he yelled out as he knocked on the door.

"Nothing," the girls replied.

"Well, hurry up, would you?" Leaning against the wall, Ron waited eagerly in the hall. Moments later, Ginny and Parvati stepped out. "How is she doing, girls?" he asked them.

"She'll be ready in a minute," Ginny answered as she and Parvati walked back downstairs.

A few minutes later, Ron was growing more impatient. He knocked on the door again, "Lavender!"

"What is it now?" Lavender yelled back from inside the bedroom.

Ron glanced at his watch, "It is now 20 minutes to 6. I'm going to have to go in there and help you!"

"Ron, I swear," she started to threaten him, "I'm going to have to---- "

"I'll give you 10 seconds!" Ron said with a grin. He began to count, "1-2-3-4-5-6-"

"Count slow!" Lavender cried.

"678910," He finished counting. With a wave of his wand, Ron unlocked the door and pushed his way inside. "Hello, darling," he greeted cheerfully as he made his way over to her waiting arms.

"Are we going to be doing this all the time?" said Lavender.

Ron kissed her, "Oh, wouldn't that just be too bad?" he teased.

She lets go of him, "Now, really, you have to go so I can finish getting ready!"

"Girls," Ron shook his head, "Okay, I'll go, but very reluctantly." He kissed her again before turning around to leave.

"Hey Ron," Lavender said as she went back towards Ginny's vanity table, "Did you hear about Hermione?"

Ron stopped and spun back around, "Yes, I heard a little."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she replied, "Is someone looking after her?"

"She's alright," Ron assured her.

Lavender picked up her hairbrush, "Funny thing," she said, "I thought I'd be gloating over her today." She stared at her reflection in the mirror, "I'm not doing any gloating," she said regretfully, "Not with those eyes looking at me."

"She'll get over it darling," he told her.

Lavender placed the hairbrush back on the table, "Now I'm glad she's the one doing the getting," she sighed, turning to Ron, "Now that goes the same for you," she shoved him towards the door, "You get out of here, we have to hurry!"

"Okay," Ron said grudgingly, "But don't say anything that will entice me to come back in," he warned her playfully. He stepped out into the hall and found Hermione looking at him hazily just a few meters away with a goofy grin across her face.

"Hello Hermione," he said tentatively, a little startled at her sudden appearance.

She stumbled over to him, "Been looking for you," she slurred.

"Have you?"

Hermione tried to focus on his face, "I'm sorry about that crack I made downstairs. Trying to be smart," she shook her head, "Wasn't so hot."

"Oh, that's alright," Ron told her.

She swayed slightly, "No it isn't," Hermione took a deep breath, "The losing lover must be a lovely loser."

"Well," Ron smiled sincerely, "You're lovely enough Mione."

"Sure," A dizzy Hermione leaned back against the way to hold her balance, "That's why you married me," she chuckled. Ron joined in, amused.

"Where are you going on your honeymoon?" she asked.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, "We don't know yet. We're going to decide once we get to the special portkey."

"Good place!" said Hermione gleefully.

"Say, it isn't bad is it?" Ron replied, humoring her.

"Maybe a boat?"" she suggested.

He nodded his head, "I don't know, maybe."

"You know how we would have gone on our honeymoon Ron?" she asked, maintaining her balance by grabbing a hold of the wall behind her.

"How?"

Hermione squinted her eyes and answered, "Rowboat!"

"A rowboat?" Ron chortled, "Say, that would've been fun wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she straightened herself, "Wouldn't it?"

"But then, you would've had to do all the rowing," he pointed out.

"Yeah," she said, "but then we wouldn't have any oars." Hermione began to stumble her way towards Ginny's door.

"No oars," Ron repeated.

"We just sit on the sea and then a yacht would come along and run into us," she slurred even more now, "and-the-yacht-would-sink-and-then-they-would-try-to-get-on-to-our boat-but-we-would-just-leave!"

"Well how would we leave without any oars?" Ron asked, slightly curious.

"Oh," Hermione produced a proud beam; "We had an engine all the time!" She laughed hysterically. Drawing in a deep breath, she finally realized, "Say, I must be a little----"

"Listen, don't you think you better go home and get some rest Mione?" he suggested.

Hermione stared into his face, "Sure," she nodded, swaying back and forth, "I get you. Congratulations."

"Thanks Mione," said Ron.

"And I do hope you will be very happy," she added.

"I know you do, honey," he replied.

"And you will," Hermione continued, "She's worth marrying," She started stumbling her way towards the stairs, "That job her father is going to give you is worth millions."

"Wine is a funny fellow, isn't it?" Ron remarked, "Imagine you saying a thing like that."

Hermione gave weak laugh and turned back around to face him, "Oh, I'm not a nice girl Ron." She sighed, "I tried every trick in the book to be the bride," she continued, her expression now quite serious, "But I'm this nice. I'm perfectly willing to warn you. When you come back, I wouldn't have anything to do with a girl like me. If I were you, I'd keep the seven seas between us. And wished there were eight!" She was about to step down the stairs when she remembered something. Hermione marched down the hall and pushed open Ginny's door.

"Oh, it's you, Hermione," Lavender cried out, a little startled.

"It's only me," she told her, "Wishing you, goodbye and good luck."

"Thanks, Mione," Lavender replied, "That's very sweet of you."

"Gee, you're pretty," Hermione complimented her friend. With that, she closed the door, and made her way to the stairs again. "Then again, so am I," she said as she passed Ron in the hall.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please remember to review. There will be more H/HR interaction in the next chapter.


	3. Love: Reality or Myth?

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. Eager to hear your thoughts. Please continue with them! I hope you enjoy the first real Harry/Hermione interaction.

Chapter Three: Love: Reality or Myth?

Harry was just about to leave his office when the phone on his desk began to ring. He had left the reception early to finish off some last minute sketches for the Daily Prophet. It was nearly midnight. "Hello?" he answered, "Oh, hello Meg."

"Harry," Mrs. Granger said, sounding distressed, "Hermione isn't home yet. Where do you think she could be?"

"She's probably still at the party," he told her, "I'm sure she's fine."

"But it's nearly midnight," she replied, "The party was over hours ago. Won't you try and find her Harry? I'm getting worried."

"Sure I'll try Meg," said Harry, "I'll _try_. But if I do find her, what do I say?" He continued to listen as he struggled to put his cloak on, "Yeah, but look! I'm nobody to tell people when to go home," he said, "I don't even know when to go home myself!" Harry reasoned, not exactly wanting to be on the path of Hermione's wrath, "She's going to be in a tough mood. She won't want to listen to any of this big brother stuff, or any lectures." He added, "And I'm not so hot when it comes to that." Harry was about to list some more reasons on why he shouldn't go when he heard Mrs. Granger sobbing over the telephone. Finally he sighed, "It will be alright Meg," he assured her, "Don't worry. I'll find her."

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An hour later, Harry walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Right away, he spotted a familiar figure with bushy brown hair slumped at the bar.

"Hello!" Harry greeted merrily, as he sat down next to her.

Hermione glanced at him, her eyes squinting, "Hello," she propped herself up on the stool.

"You're a pretty good barfly Hermione," he grinned, "What are you drinking?"

"Alone," she grunted, barely keeping her eyes open, "Do you mind?"

"No, I'll just have a quick one and go," he replied with a cheerful disposition. He turned to the barkeep, "How's the firewhiskey holding up Tom?"

"Well, they're still making it," said Tom.

Harry nodded, "Make it high."

Tom looked at the two of them amusingly before going off to retrieve the order. Meanwhile, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione. "Congratulations," he told her.

"Huh?" she looked at him confusingly.

"You had a pretty close call," Harry smiled, "Had me worried for a minute."

"Worried about what?" she asked, "You think I was going to cave?"

Tom returned and placed a tall glass filled with firewhiskey in front of Harry.

"Oh, don't be dumb," he said, shaking his head, "I'm congratulating you because you almost won that guy." He took a sip of his drink, "And didn't."

"What ARE you talking about?" Hermione asked again.

"What a fancy marriage THAT would've been," he remarked facetiously.

"You don't like Ron, is that it?" she stated plainly for him. "Well, why don't you say so?" She looked down at the empty glass in front of her.

"I have nothing against the lad," he explained, "But the kid has no money." Harry took another sip, "What would you have lived on? I ask you." He paused for a second, "Your mother. I've answered you."

"Would you like to know something?" Hermione said with a look of determination, "When Ron comes back, I'll be waiting for him." She lowered her eyes.

"Ah, now you're talking lassie," Harry replied in a patronizing way, "And listen, he doesn't need any guardian. He'll get a nice piece of change all for himself. Leave it to him. Sure! What can be sweeter? It's made to order." He gulped down the rest of his drink.

Hermione glared at him disapprovingly, "I don't like you." She sighed, "I don't know why mother does."

Harry tilted his head, pretending to look hurt, "Don't you think I have any charm?"

"No, I don't," she muttered, looking away, "But mother always had a fancy for no account people. Look at father."

"Now don't tell me your old man isn't charming," he said.

"Yes he is," Hermione told him bitterly, "But he's no account, just the same. He married mother, lost all her money for her and then walked out on her."

"And your great love Ron?" Harry mentioned, "Isn't he a little bit no account from that viewpoint too?"

With all the emotions running through her, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She broke down into tears, "Harry, will you let up on me?" she cried, "I'm almost crazy."

Harry felt awful watching her cry. He was afraid he might have gone too far this time. Tom, who also witnessed their little scene, gave them a sympathetic look and placed an entire bottle of wine in front of them.

He caressed her arm gently in an attempt to comfort her, "Look, I know you're having a tough time Hermione," he told her sincerely, "I was at the wedding. I saw you from a front seat." He recalled, frowning, "I heard what you said too. 'Anything I ever hope for never comes true.'" He paused for a minute. "If I had been Ronald Weasley at that moment, I'm afraid I would've picked you up and walked away with you." Harry added, "But Mr. Weasley won't forget that. No, you left your calling card lassie." He flashed an assuring smile, "You brought the curtain down and you've got him thinking plenty."

Hermione stopped crying as she listened. "Still, love lost today," Harry continued, "So I know you're suffering, Hermione. I know its not good to say I don't think love is worth suffering for. Not the kind of love I've seen isn't," he said, shaking his head, "All I've seen is the kind that's all around us. For me, the real thing grows on too high on a tree for us to reach it. On the highest branch," he told her sagaciously, "And I've seen a lot of jumping up and down underneath the tree. But very few that knew what they were jumping for."

Hermione stayed very quiet. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Harry grabbed the bottle in front of them. "However, there's always the grape that can be reached," he announced while filling up their glasses, "And while I believe wine is for the victors and not for drowning sorrows as it's so popularly thought. Still, anything touch by the sun has kindness," he slid the full glass in front of her, "So, lets get a little bit tight." Harry raised his own glass and gestured Hermione to do the same. "That's better than mooning alone behind walls," he told her, "So you won't hear razzing of love from Harry. Instead, we'll drink to it. If there really is such a thing." Hermione smiled gratefully and picked up her glass. Clinking their glasses together, Harry cheered, "Here's to love."

Please review!


	4. Getting Over It

A/N: Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, so I will continue with this story due to popular demand. Keep them coming. I would love for my review count to top my last story! hint hint.

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Chapter Four: Getting Over It

The next morning, Mrs. Granger entered her daughter's room to find Hermione's sleeping figure, face down on the bed. As promised, Harry helped a very inebriated bridesmaid return home late last night.

Hermione let out a series of moans as she adjusted herself on the bed. "Mother?" she muttered.

Mrs. Granger looked at her, slightly amused, "Are you awake?"

"Ummhmmm," replied Hermione, still slightly dizzy. She sat up, leaning against the headboard. Her eyes squinted as they adjusted for sunlight. "I don't know what I am," she mumbled, gently feeling the back of her head.

Mrs. Granger eyed the trail the clothes Hermione had left from the bedroom door to the bed. She sighed as she picked up the articles of clothing off the floor and stacked them neatly on the chair beside the bed. "I remember, one time I had a hangover," she recalled, "I never wanted another."

"What did you do for it?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know dear," Mrs. Granger said, "Everyone knows their own stomach."

"Oohhhh," Hermione groaned again, "I don't want to know mine."

Mrs. Granger glanced at her watch, "I must catch the 12:15 into town," she said as she made her way towards the door, "See you later."

"Mother!" Hermione called to her with a face of disbelief, "Aren't you going to say something?"

Mrs. Granger turned back around and chuckled, "I suppose I should."

Hermione gave her a stern look, "Well, I think you should!"

"You know how I hate playing that kind of mother," she told her, making her way towards the bed, "I'm just not the type," she laughed at herself. "And there's something so awful about a mother advising you, to say nothing of a hangover with it," she added.

"But I want you to," Hermione replied with a pleading look.

Mrs. Granger sighed. "Well, first of all, I suppose I should say, you'll get over it," she folded her arms, "That is, if you're the kind of girl you should be."

"What sort of a girl am I?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know exactly, Mione," Mrs. Granger shrugged, "You haven't been one thing or another. You haven't wanted a career of any sort. And I don't think you're socially inclined like," she paused for a moment, "well, like, Lavender. You just haven't been anything."

Hermione sighed and mumbled, "A nothing but a nothing huh?"

"Oh," Mrs. Granger shook her head, "but you have the makings. You were the top of your class!" She told her, "And more importantly, you're my daughter."

"And I don't want to forget that," she responded in a singsong voice.

Meg sat herself down on the bed, "Now, don't be sentimental. You'll throw me off of this stern parenting stuff."

Hermione smiled, "I'm sorry."

"Well, let's see," Mrs. Granger sighed again, her expression more serious, "What are the roads to recovery?" She thought for a minute, "You get eager about another man. You get eager about work." She shook her head, "I don't care what you're eager about dear, but it should be something!"

"What would you say if, I thought that Ron had made a mistake," Hermione told her slowly, "And that I intend to keep on getting eager about him?"

"Do you intend to?" Mrs. Granger raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," Hermione replied simply.

"I don't believe it," she said, unconvinced.

"Why?"

"Because I think you're better than that," Mrs. Granger answered.

"That's the mother in you speaking," Hermione said, looking away, "I'm really not."

"Well, Mione, I wish I knew what to say exactly," she sighed again, "But this much I do know. You ought to lay off Ron."

Hermione straightened up, meeting her mother's eyes, "Why?"

"I think you ought to answer that one yourself," Mrs. Granger stated simply.

"Suppose I didn't feel that way about it?" she posed, "Suppose, I felt that I had a right to Ron. What would you say to that?"

"Well, as long as you thought you were doing what was right, I'd be with you," Mrs. Granger nodded, "Even fight for you if necessary," she added with a subtle tone of disappointment, "But I'm afraid I wouldn't have much sympathy for the cause." She stood up and made her way to the door.

"Mother," Hermione called to her.

Mrs. Granger turned back around, "Yes?"

"That did it," she heaved a defeated sigh, "Well, you can go now. You don't have to worry about me anymore." She lowered her eyes, "I'll get eager about something else."

"Maybe I'm not such a rotten novelist after all," she remarked with a proud gleam in her eye, "Some of my characters are pretty swell people."

Hermione looked up and produced a weak smile.

"Well, I must run along," she said, making her way back towards the door.

"Hey mum," Hermione called to her attention once more.

Mrs. Granger stopped at the doorway, "Yes?"

"How did I ever happen to get a mother like you?" she praised.

"You're much too young to know," she replied with a wink before closing the door.

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A week later, Hermione and her mother were visiting Diagon Alley. They had spent the entire day looking at single flats for Hermione.

"Look, there's another one," Mrs. Granger announced as they came upon the front steps of a brick building with a vacancy sign on the window. She began climbing up the steps.

"I'll take it," Hermione said as she took a seat on the bottom step that overlooked the street, "I can't look any longer,"

Mrs. Granger rang the doorbell and leaned against the wall, quite exhausted as well. A few moments later, a short, frumpy looking woman opened the door. "Flat to rent?" she inquired.

"Yes madam," the landlady replied cheerfully, "Step right in here."

"Can't you bring it down?" said Hermione with a wearily tone.

The proprietor glanced over at Hermione and then over to Mrs. Granger. "Is it a flat for both you ladies?"

"No, just for my daughter," Mrs. Granger explained, "We live in Oxford, but she just got a job at the Daily Prophet, and this would be very nice. It's so close to the office."

"The art department?" the landlady repeated, "I think I have just the thing that will suit your daughter."

"Good," Mrs. Granger sighed in relief, "How much is it?"

"I'm asking 24 galleons a week," she told her.

"That's almost more than I make," Hermione remarked almost to the point of indifference, "But I'll love it." She slowly got up, "Come on, feet."

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A few weeks later, Hermione was already settling into her new job at the Daily Prophet. Clutching a large sheet of parchment in her hand, she made her way to Harry's office at the end of the corridor. "What do you think?" she asked upon entering the room.

Harry was sitting in his desk, talking to Barnabas Cuffe, the editor.

"He thinks that Puddlemere United will beat the Chudley Cannons on the upcoming match," Cuffe told her, "That kind of thinking is going to cost him money Hermione!" With that said, he returned to his office.

"And who do you think is going to win Hermione?" Harry asked casually.

"I haven't any idea," Hermione told him, shrugging her shoulders. She turned her attention back to the parchment in her hand, "Harry, what do you think has happened?"

"What do I think?" he repeated, "What happened?" He looked up curiously at the beaming Hermione, "You got my job?" he asked jokingly.

"No. But you're not the only artist on this paper now, my boy," she grinned with a smug expression on her face, "So I was only going to draw borders was I? Isn't that what you said? Or does my memory deceive me?"

"I said that you shouldn't expect to be drawing anything else for a year or so," Harry corrected, "Isn't that what I said?"

"That's what you said, and as usual, you haven't been right yet," replied Hermione with a smirk, "Who are you betting on the match?"

"Puddlemere United," he answered.

"Then, I'm betting on the Chudley Cannons," she announced.

Harry rolled his eyes, a slight curl on his lips, "Alright, alright," he said, "Now what's happened?" He folded his arms on his desk.

"Well," Hermione began, "I've drawn something else." She held up the parchment she had in her hand. "In fact," she continued, "I have already drawn something for the Merlin Furniture Company, which you see me holding right now."

"Why Mione!" Harry exclaimed, impressed.

"Yeah! Why Mione indeed!" she continued, "They're starting a new service to help the advertisers. And who gets first crack on making it work?" she proclaim proudly, "And who gets a raise for doing it?"

"You got a raise?" he grinned, "How much?"

"Six more galleons a week," Hermione told him happily, "That is, if you don't mind."

Harry leaned back on his chair, and propped his feet on the desk, "That's fair enough."

Hermione sat down on the chair in front of his desk. She looked at her drawing again, "Aren't you proud of me?"

He nodded, very much admiring her attitude.

"Do you know what I've drawn first?" she asked without waiting for an answer, "A bed."

Harry cocked his head amusingly, "Well, that's just something you get out of."

"Want to see it?'

"Sure," he replied, holding out his hand to receive the drawing.

Hermione looked at the sheet again, hesitating to give it to him. "Well, after all, Harry" she stood up and walked around the desk to stand next to him, "Remember, I'm not Harry Potter."

"Well who is?" Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Come on, let's see it." He straightened from his seat, putting both feet back on the floor. Hermione set the parchment down on the desk in front of him. Harry examined the drawing. It was a very detail sketch, unmistakably a bed, not unlike the one Hermione has in her own flat. For a beginner, the drawing was impressive. But of course, Harry could never admit it in front her. He continued looking at the sketch carefully, turning the paper from every angle. "What did you say it was?" he asked, pretending to look confused.

Hermione folded her arms, and glared at him, "A bed!" she snapped, "What does it look like? A horse?"

He glanced at her and focused back on the drawing, "Well, it looks like a horse could sleep in it," he gave her a mischievous smile.

Hermione slapped him playfully on the back of his head. Her lips curled upwards, "The advertising manager doesn't think so. And that's much more important than any wise-crack you can come up with."

Just then, one of the employee's came into the office and dropped off the latest issue of the Daily Prophet onto Harry's desk. But before Harry could reach it, Hermione snatched it up and eagerly scanned the pages. "There it is!" she said as she spread the paper out in front of him. On the top left hand corner was the ad that showcased Hermione's proud creation, "Looks as good as anything you ever drew," she beamed.

"Then you're a success," Harry replied, looking at the ad, "And so you are Mione!"

Hermione sighed happily, "This is only the beginning."

"Exciting, isn't it?" he looked up at her, genuinely charmed by her enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm excited," she told him, "I admit it." She stared at the ad again, "Means a lot to me. Means I'm making good." She glanced around his office while Harry looked through the rest of the paper, "That's what I started out to do."

"Well, what do you know?" Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Hermione asked as she absentmindedly straightened his desk for him.

"Oh nothing," he replied, "Just struck me as odd that here is a paper with news of the world: life, death and destiny; what you're excited about is a furniture ad." Harry turned the page.

"Well?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders and focused her attention to the paper once again. She stopped suddenly, as she took notice of the headline on the society page: HONEYMOONERS PLAN GALA HOUSEWARMING. Right beneath it was a picture of Ron and Lavender, returning to their new house from their honeymoon.

"Funny being in the same paper," Harry remarked. He read the captioning aloud, "For members of the wedding party exclusively," he looked up at her, cocking his head with curiosity, "Hmm. Will Hermione Granger be there?"

"I've often wondered how I would feel," Hermione stared off, deep in thought, "the day that would be in the paper." She paused for a moment before turning to him, "And I find Harry," she smiled, "I find that I'm still excited about my drawing!" She told him confidently, "Did you get that Mr. Potter? It means I'm all right! I can go to their party. Will I be there!" she exclaimed, "Will I be the same sad girl? That's what you mean isn't it?"

Harry nodded, slightly smirking.

"Oh, what a disappointment I'm going to give them," she continued excitedly, "Why, Ronald Weasley means nothing to me now!" She declared adamantly, looking back at her sketch, "I love this bed!" she patted him on the back. "Oh yes Mr. Potter. Hermione Granger will be there. And I'm afraid she'll be a little drunk-"

Harry turned his head, alert.

"…with joy," Hermione finished with a grin.

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Don't forget to review! And stay tuned!


	5. Can't We Be Friends?

A/N: Thank you for reviewing! Means a lot. Been doing my best with the updating. I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Let me know what you think.

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Chapter Five: Can't We Be Friends?

The party was already in full swing when Hermione, wearing a beautiful periwinkle dress, arrived by herself at the new residence of the newlywed couple, Ron and Lavender Weasley. Wanting nothing less for his little girl, Lavender's father spared no expense in building the lavish estate for them near Wiltshire. Roman columns, marble floors and a house elf greeted Hermione in the foyer. The elf quickly relieved her of her cloak and disappeared before she could thank him.

"Hermione!" Seamus called out as he made his way over to the entrance, "Hermione Granger!" He took her hands, "I haven't seen you since the day you promised to marry me!" he said teasingly, "How did that end up? How've you been?"

Hermione laughed, "Never mind," she told him as they made their way into the living room, "Just help me find Ron and Lavender."

"Oh, I see," Seamus nodded, "You want to get through the high hurdles first?" He gave her a wink, "Alright, come on then." He led her through the living room where everyone had gathered around: talking and laughing with drinks in hand. They smiled and greeted Hermione as she passed them. They crossed over to the other side near the kitchen door. "Lavender," Seamus tapped on her shoulder. Lavender turned around and faced the new arrival. "Look who I found!"

Lavender smiled and the two of them shook hands, "Hello Mione!"

"Hello Lavender," Hermione said cheerfully.

"I looked over near the front door and saw her and I thought to myself, 'I know you don't I?' and sure enough I did!" Seamus rambled to Lavender. At this point, Hermione confirmed that her behavior at the wedding did not go unnoticed and had been the topic of scintillating discussion. Even more so were they surprised that she decided to show up at the party at all. But Hermione had it all worked out in her head. She want nothing more than to prove to everyone she was a different person and that everything between her and Ron was ancient history.

"Oh! Hermione!" a familiar voice greeted her. Suddenly, Ron appeared from the kitchen door, "It's good to see you."

"Hello, Ron," Hermione smiled. She glanced back and forth between Ron and Lavender, "Well, marriage certainly agrees with you two," she remarked sincerely.

"Now, Mione," Lavender warned her, "Don't be deceived by our looks. Someone has already come between us."

"Who?"

"The Chudley Cannons," she replied dramatically.

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A few hours later, everyone was gathered inside the ballroom listening to an opera singer hired by Lavender to perform for the occasion. Hermione was sitting near the corner, mentally fighting herself to stay awake. Unable to endure anymore of the singer's piercing high notes, she stood up and casually slipped out through the French door that led to the back porch. Her actions did not go unnoticed by a certain redhead, for he too, followed a few moments later. Meanwhile, Lavender's eyes watched as her husband left the room.

Ron made his way to the porch to find Hermione staring intently at one of the lounge chairs. She picked up the cushion from the seat and started adjusting it as she saw fit. She backed herself up to get a better look, when she accidentally bumped into him.

"Oh!" she spun around, startled, "Ron."

"Hello," said Ron, gazing at her as intently as she did at the chair.

"Charming chair," Hermione remarked, focusing on the seat once more.

"Is that what you're interested in?" he asked casually.

"Yes," she said simply. Then it dawned on her, "Oh! You didn't know!" She turned to him and said proudly, "I'm drawing things like that for a newspaper."

"Oh," he replied, "You don't mean you're working?"

"Yes."

"On a paper yeah?" Ron repeated.

Hermione nodded, "Ads."

"Wonderful," he said.

Just then, the ballroom erupted into applause.

"Who's the singer?" Hermione asked.

Ron leaned in as if he were about to reveal a great secret. "I have NO idea," he replied with a grin, "Somebody Lavender dug up from someplace."

"Lovely voice," she told him, "Just a little…high." She sat down on the chair and leaned back.

Ron continued staring at her, with a slightly amused look on his face. "This isn't exactly what I expected," he said.

Hermione cocked her head, "What are you talking about?"

"I've been wondering for sometime just," he paused for a moment, deep in thought, "just, what it would be about, when you and I met again. He chuckled, "I never thought it would be about furniture and singers."

She smiled, "What did you think it was going to be about?"

"Mione, I was more or less led to believe it was going to be about oceans," he mentioned offhandedly while glancing anxiously around the porch.

"Oceans?"

"Seas, as you put it," he recalled, looking down at his shoes, "that it wouldn't be safe for us in this world unless there were eight of them between us."

Hermione was beaming inside as she realized just how powerful her words had on him. "The wine is a funny fellow," she replied with a laugh, "as you put it."

"Oh," Ron nodded, "So it was the wine then after all?" he asked, almost disappointedly, "And as soon as I left, all as if nothing had happened."

"No," she answered, her tone more serious, "Not at first," she thought fondly back to the night at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry, "But I'm alright now."

"And umm, talking to me," he asked as he paced about, "is like talking to anybody else?"

Hermione tilted her head, "Aren't you glad?"

"No," Ron muttered.

"Are you sorry, I'm not suffering?" she asked, a little amused at his behavior.

"No," he answered, "I'm not sorry you're not suffering."

"What do you want?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Ron stopped pacing and sat down on the bench opposite her. "Do you have another sweetheart?"

"Yes," she responded a little too quickly.

"Who?"

"The furniture," she said plainly.

Ron laughed, "Now come on. Quit your fooling. Who else?"

"Not a soul," she told him.

He paused for a moment. "So this is the end eh?" He let out a loud sigh, "You know, somehow, its kind of sad," he said, lowering his eyes.

"Why should it be?" Hermione turned her head, "Can't we be friends?"

Ron looked up at her, "Friends? Would you like that?"

"Sure," she shrugged her shoulders.

"Say, I'd like that too," he gave her a genuine smile, "I think that's a lovely idea. Friends I mean."

"Of course."

"Real friends," he continued excitedly, as if he's never heard of the idea, "Genuine friends!"

"Yes!"

"Swell!" Ron exclaimed with much enthusiasm, "Is there any finer friendship in this world than between two friends?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head. Their moment was interrupted by Lavender's entrance.

"Ron, dear, this party is incredibly dull," she announced as she made her way over towards them, "I'm afraid we're just an old married couple."

"An old married couple is right," Ron repeated as he pulled her down next to him on the bench. He grinned, "We're just sitting down here talking about furniture."

"Stop it," she scolded playfully, "That's a foul trick to be playing on Mione."

"No it isn't," said Hermione, "I'm in love with furniture."

"What?" Lavender asked with her hands clasped together.

"Yes, it's a terrific affair!" Ron added, "Everyone is talking about it."

Lavender observed keenly at the two of them, "You two by any chance aren't lucky enough to be a little bit tight are you?" she chuckled.

"Oh darling! Please be kind to me. I've been insulted," said Ron with a hint of whining in his voice, "My ego is hurt. I thought Hermione was carrying a torch for me and she says she can't believe she ever was in love with me!" He pouted his lips, "She doesn't even know I exist!"

"Oh what is all this?" a confused Lavender asked, "Egos? Torches? I can't make---"

"Say, you haven't heard anything yet," Ron interrupted her animatedly. He stood up and faced the girls, "We've got it all figured out," he explained, "We're going to be friends. It's going to be a sort of a unique friendship you see. I, umm—you see, she—umm—"

"Ron, let me tell her," Hermione interjected. Ron nodded sheepishly. She turned to Lavender and began in a very serious manner, "Ron never loved me. He liked me," she stated simply, "And now, I like him. That's all there is to it and I want you to believe me."

"Thank you Mione," Lavender nodded, giving her an awkward smile, "And I do believe you."

"See, there you are!" Ron proclaimed happily, "That's what I said! We're all friends! Hermione and I are friends. You and Hermione are friends. Why, you could say we were saturated with friends!"

The girls laughed at his fervent declaration.

He crouched down to their level, "Say, how about this?" he suggested, "Why don't we all go to the Quidditch match tomorrow night?"

Lavender sighed, "There we go again! Didn't I tell you Hermione? My rivals! The Chudley Cannons.

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The next morning.

Harry walked into his office where Meg and Hermione had been waiting. He shook his head. "Nothing doing," he said as he closed the door behind him.

The match tonight between Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons was the most anticipated game of the year. Everyone was either talking about it, or wagering on it. Unfortunately for Hermione, the match had been sold out weeks ago and Harry's frantic search around the Daily Prophet for an extra ticket this late ended without success.

"You and Harry are going, and that's final," Hermione told her mother.

"No, no---" Mrs. Granger tried to argue, "I will—"

"Mother, you love Quidditch and I don't," she stated simply, "If I went and you didn't, I wouldn't enjoy it."

"She means that," Harry added with a smirk.

"Oh," Mrs. Granger frowned, "What can I say?"

"Nothing," her daughter replied stubbornly as she headed towards the door.

"No chance of your great love coming through, is there?" Harry asked sardonically.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "No, all Ron could get was two." She opened the door; "I'll be in my flat afterwards. You can come by and tell me about it." She was about to step out, when suddenly; she turned back around and marched over to Harry who was now at his desk, "Oh Harry, you might as well give me the 5 galleons right now," she said haughtily.

"Ha!" Harry answered, folding his arms, "Anytime!"

"You never won on your life," she teased with a smug expression.

"But I'm going to the match and you're not," he shot back with a grin, "Laugh that off lassie!"

"If you were a gentleman, you'd give me your seat," she mentioned nonchalantly.

"But I'm not," he replied in a singsong voice.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him before reaching for the doorknob, "My my," she said facetiously, "How you surprise me." With that, she left his office and proceeded down the hall back to her workstation. As she came nearer, she spotted a familiar redhead waiting by her desk.

"Ron!" she greeted, completely taken by surprised, "What are you doing here? Today of all days! The match!"

Ron smiled. "That's what I'm doing here," he said, reaching into his inner breast pocket. He presented two slips of paper to her, "There they are. Near the front too!"

"But you've only got two," she looked him, perplexed.

"What do we need more for?" he asked.

"Lavender isn't going?"

"Sick," Ron answered casually.

"Oh," she frowned, "What's the matter?"

"I drove her to bed talking about it," he explained as he returned the tickets back into his pocket, "She told me not to worried about it. Said tomorrow would be the happiest day of her life."

"But Ron," Hermione narrowed her eyes, "I can't go with you alone."

"Why not?" he demanded, the cheerful expression disappearing from his face, "Are you crazy?"

"YOU must be crazy to think I would," she said plainly.

Ron stared at her for a moment, a little taken aback. "Oh well Mione," he sighed regretfully, "I've got everything all wrong then."

"How do you mean?" she asked, still confused.

"Well, I thought we were friends," he muttered, lowering his eyes, "But I see I'm all haywire." He shrugged and started to leave.

"But Ron," Hermione caught up with him, "After all—"

He stopped and turned back "Yeah, after all. After all what?"

"Does Lavender know you were going to take me?"

"Of course she knows it!" Ron replied, a little put off. "Look Hermione. You were there when we talked about being friends weren't you?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I was there."

"Of course," he assured her, "Lavender knows all about it."

"Oh well," she took a moment to think it over, "That's different."

"Listen Hermione," said Ron, "Let's not throw this idea of ours in the trash bin before it's even started," he pleaded, "I've been thinking about it ever since! And you and I've got an opportunity no two people ever had before! The more I think about it, the more lovely it gets."

"Yeah," she replied, unable to hid the suspicious tone in her voice, "It'll probably get lovelier all the time."

"You bet it will," Ron stared into her eyes, "Is there any finer friendship than between two men?"

"But I'm not a man," said Hermione.

"That's the idea of the game," he said, stating his point, "That's what makes it so different! We'll act exactly as if you were a man." Ron rubbed his hand on her shoulder, "Come on. Now, say you'll go. Let's try it once anyway," he gave her a puppy face.

"Well," she hesitated to answer.

"Who are betting on?" he asked, "The Chudley Cannons?"

"Yes."

"Right then," he smiled, "It's a cakewalk."

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Please Review. Hope you enjoyed the story so far! I assure you, this is not a Ron/Hermione story!


	6. Evening Talks

A/N: Okay, yeah, I know it's short. But I promised you more H/HR interaction didn't I? Really more of a green-eyed Harry. Well, then there you go! Please be a pal and give a gal a review!

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Chapter Six: Evening Talks

The Quidditch stadium was packed with people that night as Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons prepared to battle it out. Mrs. Granger and Harry were already in their seats when the commentator began to announce tonight's lineup. Just a few rows in front of them, Mrs. Granger spotted Ron playfully scooping Hermione into her seat.

"Harry!" she cried out in surprise, "Look!"

Harry also noticed that Lavender was not with them. Without a word, he turned his attention back onto the pitch, but every so often, would find himself glancing over at them. He tried very hard to ignore that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Meanwhile, with all the excitement and Ron cheering next to her, even Hermione was on the edge of her seat. She held her breath with anticipation as the seekers from the two teams raced head to head to grab the elusive snitch. At last, it was Gavin Gudgeon of the Chudley Cannons who emerged victorious. Ron, Hermione and everyone around them erupted into cheers. All except for a certain raven-haired boy, sitting a few rows back, slouching down in his seat with a sulking expression plastered across his face.

"JUST A MOMENT EVERYONE," the commentator announced, "I'M TRYING TO GET A FEW WORDS WITH OUR STAR SEEKER TONIGHT." He marched to the center of the pitch where Gavin Gudgeon had just dismounted his broom. "HERE HE IS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! HERE HE IS RIGHT NOW!" The commentator proceeded to cast the Sonorous charm on him.

"HELLO," Gudgeon exclaimed happily with his teammates gathered around him, "I AIN'T HURT NONE. IT WAS A GREAT MATCH AND THE BEST MAN WON! GOODBYE!"

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Ron and Hermione went for a late supper that same evening at a restaurant in Diagon Alley. No sooner they were seated, all the patrons broke out in applause. They looked around and realized what the commotion was about. Near the entrance stood Gavin Gudgeon, surrounded by scads of reporters.

"There he is everyone," the maitre'd announced, "He's going to speak to you! Here he is."

At that moment, Ron took out his wallet, "Two to one he says it."

"That couldn't happen!" Hermione replied skeptically.

He placed three knuts on the table, "There it is," he said confidently.

"HELLO," Gudgeon addressed the patrons, "I AIN'T HURT NONE. IT WAS A GREAT MATCH AND THE BEST MAN WON! GOODBYE!"

Hermione turned back to Ron who grinned at her triumphantly. She chucked as she reached into her purse.

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After dinner, the two friends, having such a marvelous time, were not ready to go home just yet. Hermione suggested they go out for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. When they arrived, the pub was nearly empty except for the old gentleman at the bar; sitting on the same stool Hermione was sitting in on the night of Ron's wedding. She tapped the man on the shoulder, "I beg your pardon."

The man spun around, "Yes Miss?"

"Would you do me a favor?" she asked.

"If I could," he answered tentatively.

"Would you mind moving down a seat?" Hermione requested politely.

The man surveyed the empty stools around him before giving her a strange look. He then glanced over at Ron.

"I'm just as mystified as you," Ron told him cheerfully, "So I guess it's alright."

The man shrugged his shoulders and scooted over to the next stool. Hermione propped herself up on the recently vacated seat with Ron next to her. A few moments later, Tom appeared and started wiping down the counter for them.

"Hello Tom," Hermione greeted with a smile.

Tom stopped wiping and looked up at her.

"You don't remember me," she said, "but do I remember you!"

"Well, your face is familiar Miss," he examined her intently until it finally came to him, "Oh I get it," he remembered, "You're the young lady who was here with Mr. Potter."

Ron turned his head, "Who?"

"Harry Potter, the photographer on my paper," she replied, "The fellow my mother was with tonight at the match.

"Oh, Potter!" he said, now recognizing the name, "The Quidditch expert."

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, slightly smirking, "He lost his shirt today at the match, and am I glad."

"Why?" Ron asked, "Don't you like him?

"Oh, he thinks he knows it all," she said, looking down at the counter.

A feeling of fatigue suddenly overcame Hermione. So after their drink, Ron offered to walk her home. They strolled casually along the sidewalk, arm in arm, to Hermione's flat, which was only a few blocks away. They merrily broke out into song, and by the time they had reached the front steps of the building, they were singing very loudly.

"SHUT UP!" one of the neighbors yelled from an upstairs window, "I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!"

The two friends looked at each other and giggled.

"Uh oh," Ron said, resting his elbow on hand rail, "Can you imagine going to sleep in this time of the morning?" He gave a slight bow, "Goodbye my pretty one."

"You're not coming in?" she asked.

"I'm going to walk out on you," he declared dramatically, "And if it hasn't been one of the most fun time I've had, don't ever give it to me anymore, otherwise I can't take it," he told her sincerely. He took her hand and kissed it. "Good night," he said.

"Good night," Hermione replied. With a pop, Ron disappeared. She climbed up the front steps and made her way into her flat.

She entered to find Harry Potter sleeping on her couch. "Harry!" she called out, a little surprised. Harry opened one eye and found Hermione standing over him. He quickly straightened up, putting his feet back on the floor. He glanced suspiciously over at the door before giving her eye contact.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How did you get in here?" she inquired.

"The landlady let me in," he replied, a little groggy, "I told her I was your brother."

"Why?" Hermione asked, a slight smirk forming on her lips.

Harry looked down at his shoes, "Oh I just came up to talk about the match," he muttered unconvincingly, "What did you think? Lovely match wasn't it?" he said sarcastically, "Or didn't you notice?"

She shook her head, "I didn't notice."

"Yeah, you didn't notice much at the restaurant did you?" he said, unable to hide his accusatory tone, "Except for Mr. Wonald Weasley," he spat out the name.

Hermione observed him amusingly and grinned, "Well, well, well."

"Well, well, well what?" Harry repeated defensively.

"You must be surprised," she told him.

"About what?" he asked innocently.

"To find me alone," she answered.

"Of course not," Harry muttered as he stood up and headed towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh I see," Hermione said slyly after him, "You just came around and waited a few hours to say goodnight. That's sweet, Harry."

He spun around and faced her. "Yeah, you turned out pretty sweet yourself when it comes to that," he remarked sardonically, with a scowl on his face, "Yeah, you were going to the party to show him how free you were. Well, you SURE showed him tonight!"

Hermione grinned "I just love you in the role of big brother," she replied facetiously, "It suits you perfectly."

He plastered a fake smile on his face, "Well, good night," he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Good night," she said, leaning against the open door, "and thank you for coming around."

"Oh sure, okay" he replied nonchalantly, facing her, "Glad to give you a laugh anytime," he shrugged, "What's the difference?"

"It makes a lot of difference," Hermione told him sincerely, "And I'm not kidding now Harry. I'm glad you came around."

He took a step in and leaned against the doorway, "Why?" he asked curiously

"When I came in, I wasn't at all thinking about why this evening was so lovely. I-" she paused a moment to think, "What I'm trying to say is," she explained, her tone even more serious, "that your being here made me realize that Ron is much better than you expect him to be. I'm very gratefully Harry."

Harry frowned, shaking his head in disbelief, "Are you trying to tell me you're slipping on the same old banana peel?"

"Maybe I am," she said boldly.

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments before Harry broke the silence. "Would you like to tell your mother that?" he challenged, "I know she'll love our little talk," he said sarcastically.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "Let's have lunch tomorrow. We'll talk then."

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Stayed tuned for the next chapter!


	7. Drinking with the Enemy

A/N: There you are! A long chapter this time! I hope you guys enjoy. Sorry it took so long to update. I do the best I can. Thanks for reading! Please review for dear ol'me.

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Chapter Seven: Drinking with the Enemy

The next morning, Mrs. Granger received two luncheon invitations from Harry and Hermione, both wishing to discuss something important with her. Having to get together with her publishers in London anyway, she met up with them over at a muggle restaurant nearby King's Cross station around noon.

"Oh, I don't know what I want," Mrs. Granger sighed as she placed her menu back on the table. She was sitting between Harry and her daughter who both were covering their faces with their menus. "And stop stalling anyway you two," she told them, "Tell me the talk I was promised."

"Coming up," replied Hermione from behind the menu.

"You want a soapbox?" Harry asked sarcastically, setting his menu aside.

Hermione closed her menu, revealing her face, "No," she said calmly, glaring at him, "I don't need any," she tossed her own menu down the table, "I'm not selling anything."

Mrs. Granger looked down at the table, "Come, come, come," she interrupted quickly in an attempt to avoid another argument, "Let's have it."

After a few moments of silence, Hermione placed her hands neatly on the table, "Well mother," she began, "I'm in love with Ron."

Mrs. Granger did a double take and stared incredulously at her daughter. Meanwhile, Harry affixed a permanent scowl on his face in response to every word she uttered.

"That's the big idea," she continued, "And he's in love with me."

Mrs. Granger started to fold and refold her napkin on the table, as if it was the only thing keeping her serene, "Talked it all over eh?"

"We haven't said a word," Hermione replied.

"And Lavender?" she asked, rather shortly, "Where does she come in?"

"I don't know."

Mrs. Granger finally looked up from the table at her daughter, "Have you any plans?" she asked.

"No, we didn't talk," Hermione looked away before muttering, "I wish there wasn't any Lavender."

Mrs. Granger folded her arms together, "What makes you think he is in love with you?"

Hermione gestured her head across the table, "Harry did," she mentioned casually.

Meg frowned, "No jokes today Mione, please."

"Alright," Hermione sighed and faced her mother; "I just mean that Ron didn't try anything with me and I know that he was happy."

"What do you think will happen?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "He'll get a divorce and marry me."

Harry, who had remained quiet throughout this conversation, chose this moment to stifle a derisive laugh, "Listen to her will you?"

"Alright," she snapped at him, "You talk and I'll listen. What do you think is going to happen? It ought to be good!"

"I've got no kicks with what is really going to happen," he told her frankly, the volume of his voice increased as he continued, "He isn't going to marry you. He isn't going to get a divorce. That's not the way it's going to be! My only quarrel with you is that you're just trying to kid yourself!"

"I'm not doing anything of the kind," Hermione shot back defensively.

Harry rubbed his forehead gently, "Don't give me anymore, I can't stand it," he cried in frustration.

"I'm not giving you anything!" she exclaimed, "I wouldn't give you anything!"

"Now, now," Mrs. Granger interjected, "Don't fight!"

"Oh mother," Hermione sighed, "Harry's got such a rotten outlook on things."

Harry sat up, "Now stop rewriting me," he told her with a grimace, "It's just the baloney I think is rotten. I told you, I've got no quarrels about what's really going to work out," he shook his head, "As far as I'm concerned, that's alright!"

"Oh yeah?" Hermione raised her voice.

"Yeah!" Harry countered.

"Well, it's not alright with me!" Mrs. Granger interrupted them again. She glanced back and forth at the two of them. "But I don't know what I can do about it," she added.

"Oh mother, it's not going to be like that," she assured her, "In spite of what Harry says." She shot a menacing look at him before turning back to her, "I promised you I tried to get interested in something else. Well it didn't work. And if Ron loves me as much as I love him, and I think he does, he can't keep on with Lavender. Whatever happens, it will all be out in the open. That's why I'm telling you all this, and I'm going to tell Lavender."

"Well, that ought to make for a beautiful friendship," said Harry sardonically.

Mrs. Granger pleaded, "But Herm—"

"It's no use Meg," Harry cuts her off, "Hermione Granger's discovered life and love!"

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Lavender heard a slight tapping noise outside her window. She had been in bed all day, still recovering from her cold. Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed and made her way over to the window. There, she found a small brown owl with an envelope addressed to her. She quickly retrieved it and made her way back into bed.

Leaning back against the pillow, she tore open the envelope. The note simply read:

Dear Lavender,

I want to let you know I had a wonderful time with Ron at the match last night. Something has been brought to my attention. Please try to understand what I am going to say. The other night, I said a lot of things about friendship. I meant them then, but now, I'm afraid they're not true anymore. At least, not for me. What I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with Ron.

Sincerely,

Hermione

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Later that day, Lavender was sitting at the dresser, replaying the note over and over again in her head. She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't even realize that Ron had entered the bedroom until he swooped down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Hello dear," he greeted cheerfully.

"Hello sweetheart," she replied, putting a fake smile on her face.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," she told him teasingly, "Aren't you going to take my temperature?"

Ron grinned and patted her head playfully, "Perfectly normal," he declared, "I cured in one sitting." He sat himself down on the couch, next to the dressing table.

"Ah I see," she nodded, applying some powder on herself, "A swell-headed medi-wizard eh?" Lavender looked over at her husband, "No darling, don't sit over there. Run and get dressed. We're going to be late."

"For what?" he asked.

"Now you know we're going over to Parvati's for dinner tonight," she reminded him.

Ron stood up and walked over to close the bedroom door, "You know, I've completely forgotten all about that."

Lavender noticed him hanging quietly by the door, "Is there anything on your mind Ron?" she asked nonchalantly, "You seem a little preoccupied."

"No, nothing," he answered, standing over her, "Just business I guess."

"Is father driving you hard again?" she picked up her brush and started fixing her hair.

"Yeah, what's the idea?" Ron remarked, "You know I didn't get out of there until 4:30 today?"

"Oh, poor thing," she commented without taking her eyes off the mirror, "Then what did you do?"

"Well I felt so walled in, I went over to the Burrow and played some Quidditch with Ginny and the twins," he replied, making his way to the bathroom.

"Umm, Hermione wrote to me today," Lavender blurted out, staring at Ron's reflection in the mirror.

Ron already opened the bathroom door halfway before turning back around, "Oh did she?"

"Umm hmm"

"What did she say?" he inquired offhandedly.

Lavender paused for a split second, before telling him; "She just mentioned she had a great time at the match last night." She thought she saw a sense of relief swept over her husband's eyes.

"Good," Ron responded simply before disappearing into the bathroom. Lavender stared at the reflection of the bathroom door, a worried expression cast on her face.

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After a refreshing shower, Ron walked across the hall to get dress in the study. As soon as he was ready, he quickly grabbed his cloak from the hall closet and went back to the bedroom to check on Lavender.

He entered to find Lavender, dressed in her nightgown, sitting in bed. "What's the matter?" Ron asked.

"I'm not going dear," she gave him a weak smile.

"You're not?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"No," she told him, "I really don't feel up to it."

Ron frowned, "Well, if you're too ill, I'll stay—"

"No, no, I'm okay," Lavender assured him, "I just think it's silly to risk it."

"Oh"

Are you going to go alone?" she asked.

"No," he replied uneasily, shaking his head, "I don't think so."

"Well then," she folded her hands together, "I'll tell you what to do," she said, "There isn't any dinner here. Why don't you go to Diagon Alley like you used to do before you were married and eat there?" she suggested cheerfully.

Ron perked up, "Say why not? I'll dine there, have a few drinks, chat with the boys and then come home," he walked around the bed over to Lavender's side.

"Right," she agreed, "It's made to order."

He planted a kiss on her forehead, "No," he corrected with a grin, "It's the order of my maid." With that, he left the room just before Lavender's eyes started filling up with tears.

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A few hours later, after getting together with some old friends at the Leaky Cauldron, Ron marched straight up to the bar for a drink. "Hello, Tom," he greeted, sitting himself down.

"Evening," said Tom, wiping the counter in front of him.

"I would like one of anything," he ordered merrily.

"Alright," Tom replied before turning around to fill the order.

Just then, an inebriated Harry staggered over to him and called out, "Not THE Mr. Ronald Weasley."

"I'm afraid I don't---" Ron started to say.

"No," he quickly interjected, "You don't know me," Harry narrowed his eyes, "But I know you. I'm Harry Potter."

"Oh yes," Ron nodded, "Hermione Granger told me about you. You're on her paper. The cartoonist."

Harry held onto the counter for support, "Staff artist to you," he said disdainfully.

"Have it your own way," Ron shrugged his shoulders, brushing off the last remark, "How about a drink?" he offered.

"What are you having?' Harry asked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Anything."

"I'll take the same," Harry said as he propped himself on the stool next to him.

Ron called over to the barkeep, "Make that two, Tom." He turned his attention back towards his new drinking partner, "Seen Mione lately?"

"I had lunch with her today," he slurred.

"Oh how is she?" Ron inquired.

Harry tried to lean in, but grabbed the counter just in time to keep from falling over, "Don't you know?"

"Oh I haven't seen her since last night," he told him.

Harry rested his elbows on the counter and stared right into Ron's eyes, "I don't like you," he said frankly.

"No?" Ron asked calmly, "What do you have against me?"

"Lots."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Harry added, "And there's more."

"More eh?"

"Yeah. There's Hermione," he slurred, "Why don't you lay off?"

"I just told you," said Ron, "I haven't seen her since last night."

"Yeah, but you're going to," he muttered.

"What's that to you anyway?" Ron asked, still trying to maintain his cool composure. Just then, Tom came back with two shots of dark brown liquid. He picked up his glass, "A short life but a happy one," he cheered before downing the contents.

Harry raised his own glass slowly, "A short life to you," he said before emptying his drink.

Ron glared at him contemptuously, "What's that to you?" he demanded, his temper slowly rising.

"Not a thing," Harry coolly sets his glass back on the counter, "I just think she's too good for you," he remarked.

"Oh you do eh?"

"How about a round on me?" he suggested.

Ron glowered at him but nodded.

"Another round Tom," Harry ungracefully waves his hand at the barkeep before looking directly into Ron's eyes. "Why don't you lay off of Hermione?

"You've said that before," he retorted.

"It's worth repeating."

Ron observed him suspiciously, "You know, I don't like you much either."

As if on cue, Tom sets another round of drinks in front of them.

"No?"

"No."

Harry raised his glass and announced, "To our meeting."

Ron picked up his glass and added, "Yeah, may it end quickly."

After gulping down his drink, Harry noticed that Ron left his untouched. "Well, drink up," he said, "It's my turn."

"No thanks," he sets his glass back on the counter.

"Oh," Harry sneered, "Can't take it?"

Ron shot him a menacing glance, "It's not the drink, it's the company."

Harry smirked, "I see what you mean," he nodded. "Why don't you lay off Hermione?" he repeated again.

"Say, why don't I give you a punch in the nose," Ron threatened, making a fist.

"Well, why don't you?" Harry shot back.

"I think I will!" With that, the two wizards stood up, preparing to fight.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Tom pleaded, "Not in here please."

"Don't worry Tom," Ron assured him without taking his eyes off of Harry, "This will only take a minute."

Unfortunately for a very intoxicated Harry, he could barely stay standing. He puts his arms up and balled up his fists, "Quit stall---"

In a flash, Ron punched him right in the nose. Harry immediately falls to the floor.

"Sorry Tom," Ron apologized as he tossed a few coins on the counter. "Thanks for the drink, old man," he called out to Harry before leaving the pub.

Tom quickly made his way around the bar. He and another customer helped Harry back on his feet. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Sure, I'm alright," Harry slurred, completely unfazed, "I always get hit."

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Thanks for reading! Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon! Please remember to review!


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